


take care

by BabaTunji



Series: Wakanda - BDSM Universe [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaTunji/pseuds/BabaTunji
Summary: Prompt: King Killmonger + Sub ErikTitle from "Take Care" by Drake





	take care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galaxiaa7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxiaa7/gifts).



> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bBcMt4mS2o
> 
> UPDATE (9/9) - Took this off anon. Sub Erik isn't my thing but I enjoyed the exercise.

There’s never been a time when someone didn’t look down on him for his dynamic. Too rowdy, too loud, too controlling. The list stretches long after he stopped listening. So, when he finally makes it to Wakanda, finally gets to challenge for the throne he’s been plotting towards for more years than he had his dad? Nothing can stop him. Not words, not petty promises, not dirty looks that tell him he doesn’t belong, that he’s not good enough. That he should have stayed his uncle’s dirty little secret.

He brings Wakanda’s King to his knees and something in him roars.

His original plan was to kill his cousin. It's the smart thing to do in a literal fight to the death. He certainly hadn’t expected anything but extreme prejudice from the man. Dominants didn’t back down anyway. Not for upstart submissives who didn’t know their place. His dad had told him stories when he was a kid about how things were different in Wakanda, how the rest of the world were backwards and wrong. That he would eventually take Erik home. His dad never got the chance and Wakanda never came calling. Erik learned fast to put away his dumb notions and play his assigned role.

Till he stopped trying and sank fully into his Killmonger moniker. People may not respect a submissive the same way they would a dominant or even a switch but death respected no one. Each kill, each successive mission, every accolade, every rank he earned reinforced what he already knew about himself. He was enough, he was capable, and anyone who tried him deserved what they got.

His cousin yields.

It ruins Erik’s fun and cuts what should have been a longer, more humiliating fight short. Erik doesn’t want to back off. A part of him doesn’t even believe his ears. He wanted to kill his cousin. The man couldn’t just… yield. And yet he does and moments later the man he had once called ‘Uncle James’ names him King.

After that, things move fast. He puts his uncle’s family under house arrest. Deals with a wary but mostly uninvested council and gives the first orders for his vision. He expects opposition and some pushback; a part of him doesn’t believe they’d let a submissive be King. That they’re just humoring him and planning to remove him. Even if his dad had told him stories, and one of the council elders was a sub himself.

One day turns into three and then a week turns into a month. He stays King. His plans go into effect, no one mutinies. At least no one important. The Border Tribe stands behind him, the majority of the War Dogs too. The council falls in line once the effects of his strategies start rolling in, mostly positive and with Wakanda’s relative safety assured.

The Dora Milaje don’t kill him in his sleep. That part is probably the most surprising. The Dora Milaje were mostly dominant and their leader a long time friend with his cousin. But they follow him, guard him, don’t talk back and don’t make trouble. The level of loyalty reminds him of Linda, and that death hurts a little less.

Fast forward three months in and Erik runs into his first real issue since he arrived in Wakanda. ‘Issue’ being a bit of an exaggeration. It isn’t yet an issue, but it would be. Soon. Before he came to Wakanda, he’d taken stuff. To help him deal with some of the pedantic behavior and ingrained social anxiety that came with being a submissive. There were times he didn’t have the drugs and he powered through it, usually with the help of alcohol or mood enhancers. It isn’t something he likes, but he stopped being too proud for the drugs when he experienced the difference it made.

To stare a dominant in the eye and feel nothing. To remain unaffected and unbothered even if years of honed instincts were yelling at him in the back of his head to kneel or display some sort of obedience. The drugs don’t work with the herb. He realized that 2 weeks in at a religious ceremony when he’d been hit with the strongest urge to kneel. He’d ignored it but then they’d just keep coming. Even after he upped the dosage. Another week of dealing with his drugs not working, he’d gone to see the subject expert on the herb. One of the priests of Bast and also an accomplished physician if her certifications weren’t lying. She’d told him, blank faced and little perturbed that the herb protected him from poison.

The drugs he’s been taking were considered toxigens by the herb and were thus neutralized. He’d asked her for something to modulate his mood, something that wouldn’t immediately be neutralized by the herb and she’d explained a little slower and more carefully, the herb didn’t usually allow most drugs to take effect. He couldn’t even get drunk or at least his blood alcohol content would never go beyond ‘slightly tipsy.’

It ruins his week. It also sets a pattern. He deals with being King, coordinating his plans outside of Wakanda and now impulses he hasn’t felt this strongly in years. It's a miserable combination. He knows he has to do something when he stops trying to stop some of the minor sub tendencies. The general doesn’t mention it but the next night there's a Dora Milaje, one he doesn’t recognize older and not part of his regular detail, offering to take him down. He declines, and the next night another Dora comes to offers to take him down. He declines that too.

He thinks about it though. He really really does. He hasn’t had a regular dominant since he was in high-school, and their juvenile forays didn’t really count. He hasn’t felt comfortable being vulnerable with someone besides another submissive in a long time. The third Dora Milaje that offers is a submissive. Her offer, nonplussed but well meaning, takes him aback. Linda was a sub. She played at being a dominant though so it worked. This Dora Milaje isn’t Linda. He says yes.

It’s good. Not exactly what he’s craving, but definitely more action than he’s gotten since he arrived in Wakanda. The impulses don’t stop though and Erik learns new and interesting ways to deflect some of the more annoying ones. Probably over-compensating though it’s not another month till W’Kabi of all people approaches him about selecting a dominant.

\- - -

N’Jadaka is standing when T’Challa is led to the room. One of the receiving rooms in the King’s quarters. T’Challa doesn’t know the specifics for why he’s been summoned. He is being accordingly careful. The Dora Milaje who escorted him leaves the room once dismissed leaving he and N’Jadaka alone in the room. The room is tastefully decorated, with wide windows and thick couches. Since N’Jadaka is not seated T’Challa remains standing.

“Do you have a collared sub?” His cousin’s asks without preamble. T’Challa takes a moment too long to answer, surprised by the question.

“I don’t.” His formal relationship with Nakia had ended years ago, since then he hasn’t entered anything serious.

“When was the last time you had one?” Another odd question. Why did N’Jadaka care?

“Four years ago.” T’Challa answers minimally, giving no more information than the question needed.

“Who was it?” This question T’Challa doesn’t want to answer. If N’Jadaka wished to know he could find out himself.

“Why does it matter?” T’Challa answers with his own question. Thus far their meeting has been strange. His cousin hasn’t deigned to see him or his family since they were placed under house arrest.

“What type of dom are you?” N’Jadaka continues as if he hadn’t heard T’Challa’s question.

T’Challa deliberates on how to answer. Watching N’Jadaka’s face, his seeming inability to stay still. Not unlike their meeting in the throne room months ago. N’Jadaka is a submissive. There weren’t many reasons he would be asking a familial dominant these questions.

“Provider.” He thinks Americans have a different name for his sort. There were a variety of classifications for a dominant, most fell under more than one even if they leaned strongly in one direction or another.

N’Jadaka nods then asks, “Rate your sadism, 1-5. 1 being low, 5 being high.”

This is probably one of the most personal questions T’Challa’s been asked since this conversation began. He realizes a little belatedly N’Jadaka is approaching the conversation as if they were creating a contract.

“That’s personal.” T’Challa had no intention of starting anything with a submissive right now. Least of all his cousin.

N’Jadaka stalks forward, stopping a body’s length away in front of him. “Answer the question.”

T’Challa stares back, unfazed. “What is this about?” If N’Jadaka just wanted to terrorize him there were other ways.

N’Jadaka tells him, with no small irritation in his voice, “Don’t play dumb.” Then he steps closer. T’Challa tenses but doesn’t answer. His cousin walks all around him, almost like a cat examining a prey. Or an available submissive assessing a potential dominant. T’Challa doesn’t know what to feel, besides dread.

The next time he stops in front of T’Challa he tells him: “They say you’re a masochist.”

T’Challa doesn’t know who ‘they’ are, but he can guess. Then he wonders why the man had asked as to his sadistic tendencies when he already knew T’Challa leaned masochist? How had it come to this? Surely there were other more willing candidates?

N’Jadaka continues: “I rate 5 on a scale of 1 to 5. True Sadist.” Another American classification.

“N’Jadaka—” He starts to say but he gets cuts him off.

“I don’t have limits. If you aren’t trash, I’ll bring you in every month or so.”

“N’Jadaka, I cannot help you. That's not how these things are done.” He had 0 interest in doing a scene with someone as unhinged as his cousin seemed to be. Bast, the term ‘True Sadist’ is enough to make T’Challa’s gut tight. He couldn’t imagine taking someone like N’Jadaka.

“You don’t have a choice.” N’Jadaka sounds flippant. But there’s an undercurrent. Something dark and uncertain about his expression. His inability to keep still even while standing right next to T’Challa. Something is driving their new King and T’Challa doesn’t like it one bit.

“You don’t need me. You can find someone willing.” T’Challa is sure of it. Least of all the Dora Milaje. Most of whom were dominant. Why is N’Jadaka trying to do this with him?

“I don’t trust anyone. You and me, there’s already a rapport. You know your place.” There are things N’Jadaka isn’t saying but what he is tells T’Challa enough. His cousin seemed to have some warped views of how a contract should go. He would rather force T’Challa into an agreement than find someone more amenable or even to his extreme tastes. T’Challa knows the West handles their dynamics differently but the picture N’Jadaka is painting. From his demeanor, to the conversation, to his need to cow T’Challa. It speaks volumes to abuse and mistreatment.

“Wakanda isn’t like the rest of the world. Surely you’ve seen that now. Any one you chose would not mistreat you.” T’Challa tries again to reason with him.

“I’m not scared of mistreatment cousin. This is a boundaries issues. I don’t want anyone getting too comfortable.” When phrased like that T’Challa starts to see the reasoning in the twisted ‘offer.’ His answer is still no.

“I do not like sadists. We are not compatible.” Understatement. Nakia had been the furthest thing from a sadist. He loved her for it.

“What sort of masochist are you?” N’Jadaka is teasing him, but it falls flat. T’Challa is not feeling playful or warm. He feels like he’s being caged in by a testy panther. One who is seconds away from eating him whole. When T’Challa doesn’t answer, N’Jadaka steps back.

“I’ll take your mom and sister off house arrest, if you say yes.”

Nothing about T’Challa being taken off house arrest.

‘No.’ is on the tip of his tongue. Anything given could be taken away, even if he agreed, if N’Jadaka wasn’t pleased. This could all be a ruse to hurt him.

“I’ve been nice haven’t I?” His cousin sounds frustrated now and T’Challa feels similarly so. For someone like N’Jadaka he had been kind. T’Challa has been keeping an eye on the havoc he’s been wreaking on certain countries and the changes he was making to Wakanda’s own defenses in preparation.

“If you take my mother and sister off house arrest, you can’t reinstate it just because I’m not to your taste.” T’Challa can’t believe he’s considering this.

“Fine. We’ll have a test scene first, if it goes well I’ll give the orders tomorrow.”

T’Challa hasn’t said yes. “No.” He didn’t trust N’Jadaka or his proclivities.

“What else do you want?”

T’Challa wants to not be under house arrest. He wants things to go back to the way they were. He wants several other things that weren’t possible. Even if he challenged his cousin come the next challenge day. Which he may not be able to, if Wakanda came under attack the way some feared it would. Wartime would be different.

“Protection, for my family.” It's the least he can ask for. Whatever is coming, he can’t allow his family to be used as pawns. He knows people expect him to challenge and a part of him chafes at the politics at play in his cousin’s ascension and continued kingship. This all feels like some sort of ‘humbling’ of the Panther Tribe. He fears by the time certain people are satisfied there won't be much to salvage.

“Protection how? I’m not interested in your sister or your mother. They just need to stay out of my way.” Not challenge him N’Jadaka meant. T’Challa presses on.

“You seem to think, you and I would be any sort of compatible.” Or at least that it would be enjoyable enough for him to justify releasing two of his hostages (in everything but name of course). “If you’re willing to let my family go, under that assumption I want you to also guarantee their safety.” A lost cause maybe, but something T’Challa finds he desperately wants. He didn’t want one of the man’s supporters getting ideas.

N’Jadaka finally catches his drift and his expression changes. “Not exactly something I can guarantee.” The words sound playful, flirty even, as if he wasn’t discussing harm to T’Challa’s loved ones.

T’Challa’s expression tightens. He has less to bargain with than he would like. N’Jadaka is all but telling him the only person this arrangement would benefit is himself. Could T’Challa even trust anything he said? Probably not. But the chance of it not being lies is enough to tip his ‘No’ to a grudging, ‘Yes.’

“I want witnesses, before this scene.” Okoye maybe, and someone else impartial.

N’Jadaka doesn’t seem pleased at all with that concession but he agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE (9/9) - If this were to continue it'd just be sex and politics and I quite frankly don't have the range. You can expect more bdsm universe in the future however. From the "chance meeting" verse for sure.


End file.
